“Shame you can’t join us,” Christian said, stroking around the dressing on her knee. Her heart-rate jumped with every suggestive circle of his finger.
“Next week, maybe.”
“Next week I’ll be gone.” His eyes darkened, sending a shaft of purest regret to shatter her composure.
“Next week I’ll be gone too,” she countered. “It’s Wednesday you’re back from Japan, isn’t it? So on Wednesday I’ll fly up to Auckland.”
“To get away from me?” He stood, challenging her to ignore him. She found it impossible. Her hungry eyes roamed all over his impressive body, enjoying his lean strength, unable to forego even a few seconds of his teasing display.
She drew a deep breath. “To see Mom and Dad for Christmas,” she corrected.
“Ah, Christmas.” It sounded so bleak the way he said it.
“You could bring Nicky up to Auckland for a few days. To Mom and Dad’s? We’re going out to the beach-house at Orewa.”
“And good old Greg and Rebecca could chaperone us? See we don’t get up to any mischief? No thanks.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Of course you didn’t, Blondie.”
Of course I did.
CHAPTER TWELVE
On December 23rd Fiona stood her crutches in the corner of the bedroom for the final time and placed her presents for Nicky on Christian’s tallboy so he’d find them there when he returned from Sakai that evening. There were small gifts for Kathy and Amy Houndsworth, too.
She’d purposely bought nothing for him. After all, she was trying to discourage his attentions and keep him at arm’s length.
She thought this with a virtuous sigh, almost changed her mind, found her resolve again, hesitated, and at the last moment retrieved one of Kathy’s snapshots. The photography was enthusiastic rather than expert. She’d caught Fiona reading under the sun-umbrella, long legs dappled by the shade of a nearby tree, with Nicky on the lawn beside her.
Fiona kissed the back of the photo, quickly wrote her cell-phone number under the faint lip-gloss print, and slid it into his top drawer. What would it matter? She’d be out of his life from now on.
She zipped up her carry-bag. Kathy had already wheeled her suitcase to the front door as though anxious to hurry her out. She presumed the nanny looked forward to having Christian and the house all to herself. She had no trouble picturing Kathy squealing and splashing with Nicky while he looked on from beside the pool.
With amusement or lust?
She bit down on her bottom lip and went to hug Nicky goodbye.
He was due back about six. She was in a taxi by four.
And for the twenty-minute cab-ride, the thirty-minute check-in wait, the hour-long flight to Auckland, she could think of nothing but him.
“Darling!” Rebecca Delaporte exclaimed as Fiona finally limped into view, the last passenger to disembark. She drew her into a careful hug. Ahead of them most of the other Christmas travelers hurried away. “You’re looking much better—I’m so relieved. But I wish you still had your beautiful hair.”
“Time for a change,” Fiona murmured, kissing her mother’s soft cheek and breathing in her familiar Chanel No 5 perfume. “Don’t start, Mom—I love it.”
“I suppose we’ll get used to it,” her father said. “It’s a small price to pay to have you alive and well. Prepare to be spoiled rotten,” he added, reaching over for her hand luggage.
“Well, she’s doubly precious to us now—of course she deserves spoiling.”
And just like that Jan crashed back into all their memories. The missing, much-loved elder daughter and mother of their only grandchild. The daughter who’d stayed in New Zealand and not gone gadding off around the world. All the unspoken words that set Jan apart. Fiona grimaced while her mother couldn’t see her face.
Then Rebecca leaned away and surveyed her with pursed lips as she swung briskly into doctor mode. They were almost on their own at the arrivals gate now, for which Fiona felt grateful.
“Stitches all out? No nasty infections?”
“No—I’m good thanks, Mom. They had me on antibiotics to start with, just to be sure, I guess.”
Her mother nodded and released her.
“Does a father get a hug as well?” Greg asked, holding his arms wide.
“Of course you do, but don’t squeeze this shoulder too hard. I’m still a bit tender there.”
“Rotator cuff damage?”
“They said I was basically fine. Just a big bruise that’s taking its time, I think.”
Greg shot his wife a meaningful look as he drew Fiona close and kissed her brow.